


Desperate Ishtars

by ThatRandomFan



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Gen, I have no idea where that title came from, I think I saw a sitcom titled like that before? I'm not sure. I can't remember, I'm terrible at titles- sue me, Just a normal post-canon fanfic but this time with kids, M/M, not mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 18:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12776871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatRandomFan/pseuds/ThatRandomFan
Summary: It started, as always, with Malik tampering with things he shouldn’t have. And now, here they were, dealing with the aftermath. Bakura remembered everything that day – but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember a day Malik looked more beautiful than he did that day when he first saw him with their child laughing at his lap.And if Bakura could peer into the future, he would have figured out by then the events that would soon to follow in his life. Too bad for him he couldn't, or else he would have prepared a bottle of whiskey to help him endure what Isis has in store for him.





	Desperate Ishtars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mainstream_Deviant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mainstream_Deviant/gifts).



> Shout-out to Kamy and Squelette for letting me use their OCs. You guys are lifesavers! Thanks a bunch! 
> 
> Also, thanks Lilyliegh for betaing this!

It started, as always, with Malik tampering with things he shouldn’t have.

Years had passed since Malik enlisted Ryou’s help to bring him back from the dead, but Bakura remembered it as if it was yesterday. He remembered darkness, nothingness, and the endless void of the shadows. The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by water, candles, and Malik’s arms. He remembered freezing in his hold, afraid of it being an illusion, with Malik turning into sand the moment he touched him. It left Bakura feeling even worse than he was, but what the heck! Malik has been his only regret in life, so what if he would turn to sand, to ash, to whatever torturous things the shadows conjured – Bakura just wanted to touch his partner again, even if it was just for a little while.

The moment Bakura’s shaky hands touched Malik’s tears-streaked cheeks, he held his breath and waited, and waited, and waited.

But nothing happened.

Malik didn’t turn to sand as he expected; he didn’t turn to ash either. He merely stared at him with a melancholic smile, pressing Bakura’s hands to his cheeks as if they were the most precious thing in the world.

And Bakura wept.

He wailed for his village, his vengeance, and for himself.

He bawled for the time he had lost and the time he had wasted.

He cried and cried until nothing else was left of him.

And yet, Malik stayed. 

Impatient, emotionally-repressed Malik stayed and cradled Bakura in his arms, rubbing soothing circles on his back and humming a calming lullaby to his ears until he cried himself to sleep. When Bakura came to his senses, he was lying on a bed, Malik’s arms still holding him tightly, tempting him to stay.

And so Bakura stayed.

It wasn’t until later that he found out he wasn’t the only one who escaped the shadows that day.

Apparently, all this time, Ryou had been keeping Malik’s alter ego alive. He cared for him and taught him what he needed to know to survive. Oh, and he also named him Kek. Like some sort of a pet – which he probably was, given how well Ryou managed to train him. Bakura didn’t know how it happened. He didn’t know how and he really didn’t want to find out. Suffice to say that his former host had grown rather fond of the walking artichoke and they, for some odd reason or another, decided to have a child. And not just any child, mind you. They want to have their own _actual_ child.

Malik brought up adoption.

Ryou brought up magic.

He was immediately shot down.

Of course as expected of Ishtar compulsiveness and Bakura stubbornness, the two didn’t accept it. They were adamant to have a child of their own.

Malik argued long and hard about it, discussing the pros and cons, mostly cons, to the couple.

But Malik was fated to fail.

Once a teary-eyed Ryou brought up how he wouldn’t hesitate to help a desperate Malik, who came to his door and begged for his help – despite their differences – Malik’s resolve crumbled and he reluctantly agreed. Bakura was just happy that he didn’t have to listen to them anymore.

And now, here they were, dealing with the aftermath.

After a successful ritual, a child was born and Ryou and Kek were now officially parents. They were now free to leave him and Malik alone again. Problem solved, right? _Wrong._

By some cruel trick of the gods, another child was born. The newly-dubbed parents were more than happy to take him with them but here’s the thing – they couldn’t.

Sure, their jobs paid well but it was only enough to pay for them and their new child. They couldn’t care for another child without taking more jobs; thereby leaving the children alone with nobody to care for them.

That was when Bakura made a very grave mistake.

He left Malik to argue with Ryou and Kek. He spoke of how the child was also their responsibility since they were the ones who wanted that ritual to be done. He insisted for them to take the child with them back to Domino and leave him and Malik alone. They argued their points nonstop until the sound of tinkling laughter reached their ears.

They looked back and there, right where they left them, Malik sat with the child on his lap, gazing at each other before the child burst out laughing as Malik watched on in wonder. Bakura remembered Ryou and Kek grinning at him from the corner of his eyes.  He remembered Malik noticing them and being flustered at being found out. He remembered everything that day – but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember a day Malik looked more beautiful than he did that day when he first saw him with their child laughing at his lap.

_Pa-neck Ir-en Bakura Ishtar._

They nicknamed him Pan for short.

He was the spitting image of his fathers combined. With Malik’s gorgeous eyes and Bakura’s daredevil hair, the boy was destined to break hearts left and right when he grew up. Not only that but Pan received from his parents’ their shared tenacity, fortitude, and ingenuity. He also inherited their cunning, sharp wit – and, to Ryou’s horror, their penchant for stealing.

“ _That isn’t how you raise a child!” Ryou said with little Mari Akane sitting on his lap, fiddling with one of Pan’s toys, during one of their visits.  
_

_“How else are we supposed to raise him then?” Bakura replied, watching Pan follow Malik around, careful not to make a sound._

“ _Well…” Ryou shook his head and sighed in defeat._

That had been the last time they had had a conversation.

Honestly, it was a wonder how they were able to keep Pan hidden for so long. Between Isis’ monthly phone calls and nosy neighbors wondering about the sudden extra feet padding around Malik’s apartment, two years was a really long time. Bakura felt like congratulating himself, despite not doing anything to help hide Pan’s existence. But, alas, just like everything else in Bakura’s life, some things just refused to go according to plan.

Sooner or later, Isis managed to catch them all up and the gig was up.

He didn’t remember who slipped and ended up telling Isis, but Bakura’s bet was on Ryou.

They were enjoying a nice, relaxing afternoon when it happened. One of those movies Rishid liked so much was playing on the television and Malik was curled up beside him, Pan seated on Bakura’s lap, gurgling nonsense in response to the actors on the screen. It had been a great day, one of those rare times where he and Malik didn’t argue about some nonsensical thing. It reminded Bakura of the life he once had and how _this_ was also something he could consider a victory against the Pharaoh. A sigh escaped him and, before he could stop himself, he found himself leaning against Malik with a warm smile on his lips.

Malik didn’t react to it but Bakura knew – from the way Malik angled himself to better accommodate Bakura, and from the way his lips quirk up just a little – that Malik was enjoying himself too.

And for once in their life, things were finally peaceful and perfect for them.

Until a knock was heard from across the hall, that is.

With a sigh, Malik stood up to leave. “I’ll get it,” he said as Pan instinctively leaned closer to Bakura.

Bakura was okay with that. He was content to lean back and watch the movie with Pan. Whoever was at the door surely came here for Malik anyway. _As if anyone knows I’m back._          

Minutes ticked by and the distant voices by the door slowly increased in volume.

Before he knew it, cold blue eyes were glaring at him from the door.

“…Fortune cookie.”

“Bakura.” Isis scowled at him, fists clenched so tight at her sides that Bakura was sure she was moments away from sending him to Ammit’s belly.

* * *

Mad doesn’t even begin to cover how Isis felt at that moment.

Here she was, acting like any proper sister would: checking on her brothers, worrying for them, forgiving them.

And what did they do?

_They threw it all back in her face._

She had learned to forgive and forget her brothers’ atrocities.

She could overlook the fact that Malik hid Bakura’s existence from her.

She would ignore the fact that Malik told Rishid all of this.

Isis could handle all of those things. She was a virtuous woman who believed that certain things happened because the gods deemed it necessary for a better future. But this – **_this._ **

_When I get my hands on those two –_

Needless to say, Isis was very much cross with how Malik hid Pan’s existence from her. All she wanted was to see her darling nephew and Malik dared lie to her face like this – like **this.**

**_How dare he?!_ **

Irresponsible and insensitive her brother may be, but Isis was a woman of pride and patience. She would not react like some barbarian. No. She was better than that.

And thus with those thoughts in mind, Isis formulated the best way she could get back to her brothers and meet her niece and nephew.

* * *

 

“A get-together? Seriously?”

“Bakura,” Malik said, his brows twitching in the process.

“Is your sister high? What was she thinking when she said that?”

“We’ve been doing this for four years now, Bakura! _Four years!_ ” Malik crossed his arms and tapped his foot as he levelled his partner with a glare. “Is now really the time to get prissy about it?”

Bakura huffed. “Excuse you – I’ve been complaining about this every single time but _nooooo!_ Mr. Perfect wants to disregard all those times in favor of proving a point. Well not today! I’m not going on some no-good get-together! _Especially_ if it’s one made by your sister.” He then turned away from Malik, signalling the end of their conversation.

Malik sighed. _With how Bakura is acting right now…_ With a click of his tongue, Malik stepped closer to his partner, hugging him from behind and whispering in his ear, “Is there seriously nothing out there that could change your mind about that?”

“Oh hell no, Ishtar!” Bakura called out as he twisted away from Malik’s grasp. “You are _not_ seducing me into coming to your sister’s party.”

“Ra, Bakura – it’s just for one day! Two if something terrible happened."

“Still too long! You know how your sister feels about me…” Bakura sighed as he let the words out, glancing to their window to avoid looking at Malik.

And it was true. It was no surprise to everyone how Isis feels about Bakura. It was as if, no matter what Bakura does, Isis would never forget who he was in his past life. Malik scowled. _That still isn’t enough reason to skip out though._ With those thoughts in mind, Malik continued his quest.

“Come on, Kura. What could I possibly bribe you with so you’ll come?” Malik leaned sensuously towards Bakura.

Bakura tried to ignore Malik. He really did. But the puns – _the puns!_

“Come, you say? Oh, I could think of a million ways _you_ could _do_ to make me _come,”_ Bakura said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Be serious!” Malik scowled at his partner but the way his eyes lit up said another thing. “How about I cook those abominations you like so much?”

“And a blow-job...?”

Malik closed his eyes and took a deep breath before answering. “Fine.”

“...while we’re there?”

He could see Bakura with that shit-eating grin on his face as he heard that statement. Malik was pretty sure that it would be there when he opened his eyes. Thus, when he saw it, just like he expected, he merely leveled Bakura with a glare and hissed. “You’re pushing your luck now. You know why we can’t do things like that there.”

It was his sister’s house for crying out loud! He knew Bakura had no sense of shame but Ra above and Osiris below, couldn’t he at least think of the children that they could possibly scar should they come across them? And what about the lectures and teasing from the others once they found out? They would be so screwed.

“Easy, easy. Was just trying to see how much I could weasel out of you before you started bitching at me.” Bakura laughed.

“Haha, asshole. Very funny.”

Bakura’s grin mellowed down and settled into a small smile, but no less happier than the earlier one. He touched Malik’s face and cupped his cheek, feeling giddy when Malik leaned into it and closed his eyes in bliss. “Relax, it’s going to be fine.”

“I know,” Malik whispered, tugging Bakura closer to him before sending his partner one of his heart-stopping smiles. “It’ll be fun.”

“It’ll be fun,” Bakura echoed before sealing the words to Malik’s lips with a chaste kiss.

* * *

Malik lied. This wasn’t fun. This wasn’t fun at all.

Bakura scowled in his hiding place. Everything was going so well until all the festivities died down and the adults had left the children to their own devices.

Pan was a sweet kid. He really was. He would always do his best to not cause too much trouble for his parents. Bakura had no problems with Pan. Pan was good.

It was _the other one_ that had Bakura running for the hills.

He had only, _thankfully_ , met her a handful of times before, most of them when she was only a harmless babe and the recent years only because of Isis’ stupid get-togethers. Ever since he first laid his eyes on her, he knew she was trouble.

Who wouldn’t think that, really? Her fathers were Ryou and Kek – _the most problematic people on the planet_ . (“Shut up, it’s true,” Bakura glared at nothing in particular before scowling, still hearing the voices from across the screen). If there was one phrase that summed up Akane, it was that she was a _hell spawn._

But that wasn’t the only reason Bakura was running from her, it was –

“Kura! I found yooooouuuuu!”

**_Curses._ ** He’d spent too long monologuing that he didn’t even notice the hell spawn sneak up on him like that. Regardless, he had to play his cards right if he wanted to get away from this mess.

“Hello there, Akane,” Bakura said in the sweetest voice he could offer. “Have you seen Malik? I’m looking for him.” He didn’t even wait for the girl to reply before continuing on. “Would you mind asking Isis for me, please?”

“Nu-uh! You’re just gonna hide again!” Akane huffed with her arms crossed to her chest.

_Fuck._ “Haha – Akane, no. I’m not, I swear. I just really have to find Malik. It’s very important.” He even frowned for good measure.

It was a stalemate. Akane just wouldn’t budge and Bakura wouldn’t allow himself to be victimized again. For the longest time, it seemed that they would stay like that until the end of the get-together. That is until Akane played her trump card.

Bakura was kicking himself when he saw the telltale wobble of her lip and way her eyes filled up with tears. He ignored the way her shoulders hitched up and down with her sniffs, as if she was trying her best not to cry. He turned a blind eye to it all. He wouldn’t let himself fall for it again.

“Alright. Stop that now. We both know that you’re just faking it,” Bakura said, dropping all the faux niceties.

But Akane still wouldn’t stop.

Her tears were now falling freely and she was unable to control her sniffs anymore. Sooner or later, she would start bawling, calling her parents to her like moths to a flame and then Bakura would be in a hell lot of pain.

_Fucking malicious child of a –_ “Okay, okay! Look. If I play with you, do you promise not to cry and have you parents rain holy hell on me?”

And just like that, Akane perked up faster than a college student who drank 17 shots of espresso without any whip cream. She beamed at Bakura, bobbing her head in joy. “Yup! Yup! I promise!”

Bakura definitely should have forced more demands on Malik.

* * *

Bakura hated a lot of things in this world.

For starters, there was the Pharaoh and his entire entourage. And then there were the lesser things life that he hated just as much, like bigots, coworkers, Kaiba, people who talked shit about Malik and Pan, and some more people that got on his nerves such as news anchors.

But most of all, the thing Bakura hated the most, second only to the Pharaoh, were glitters.

_Sparkly. Girly. Glitters._

The sort of glitters hormone-induced teenagers like to put on themselves in order to pretend that they were some sort of fictional character that could potentially burn under the sun. _A bunch of half-twits, the lot of them._ Bakura shuddered at the mere thought of them.

That was why, ever since Akane had decided that he was the best candidate to test her mastery of the decoration during their last get-together, Bakura had done everything he could to spend as little time with her as possible and, on the off chance that worst case scenario happened, get away from her.

Unfortunately for him, none of his usual tricks seemed to be working seeing as he was still here, being primmed up by Akane. _Fucking gods, could this get any worse?_

“Oooh, what do you have there Akane?” said a certain blond as he entered the room.

_Me and my damn mouth_ , Bakura thought as Malik grinned at the abomination he had become.

“Uncle Malik!” Akane grinned at him, hugging Malik in the process. “Doesn’t Kura look pretty?” she said as she gestured to her captive, currently covered in glitters with a huge pink bow on top of his head.

“He sure does Akane, he sure does.” Malik grinned behind his fist. Bakura looked ridiculous but he’d rather be damned than ruin the girl’s fun. “Kura most definitely looks pretty right now,” he said as a chortle escaped him.

Bakura glared long and hard at the two but between Malik’s insistent laughter and Akane’s dedicated work, it soon lost its intensity. He found himself smiling fondly at how things were going until he caught Malik’s gaze.

“What are you looking at?” he growled, his glare back on.

His partner merely shook his head and grinned. “It’s nothing.”

“That’s what I thought,” Bakura huffed before seeing someone else enter the room, followed by his son. “Well, well. I didn’t know you had a face underneath all that grime,” he said, snickering.

Kek scoffed. “You’re just jealous I look more beautiful than you could ever hope to be,” he replied confidently despite the obvious smudge of his lipstick and the way-too-red blush on his cheeks. “I look like a god compared to you!”

“Holy –” Malik bit his lips, remembering the children in the room, before continuing with a laugh. “Not you too!”  

“Why Malik, I am _offended_.” Kek striked a pose oftentimes seen done by the victims in those dramas Isis loves to watch. “And after all the work dear Pan did to accomplish this? For shame, Malik. Shame!”

Blinking back in shock, Malik looked at his son, hiding behind Kek as he fidgeted with his sleeves. He was about to say something but Bakura beat him to it.

“You did this?” he exclaimed, looking almost comical with his pink bow. He had to say, he didn’t think his son knew about make-up, let alone how to use it. _Is he messing around in our room again?_ He really needed to talk with Malik about this. Bakura was sure that their son would never be able to find those secret compartments but still – _Malik would kill me if Pan saw_ **_those_ ** _things._

Pan shot them both a sheepish smile. “Akane said it would be a nice surprise. She said it would make you happy. Are you happy?”

Kek have to admit; those two did a fine well job of raising the boy. It may have looked like Pan was acting like a simple child would in his situation, but it was far more than that. Judging from the way Bakura creased his brows and how Malik’s smile tightened, they did not expect Pan to pull a trick like this. Pan knew that he was in trouble. And what a magnificent job he did of getting out of it, by appealing to his fathers’ sentimentality and humor. Kek would say that it worked based on how much Bakura was laughing now.

“You bet I’m happy! Look at that guy!” he cackled as he pointed at Kek. “He looks ridiculous!”

Kek’s ‘ **_Excuse me_ ** _?’_ was the only warning they had before Kek lunged at Bakura, swatting him with Akane’s extra giant bows.

Malik merely sighed in disbelief before ushering the children away from the overgrown kids on the floor. _Those two…_

Before long, Ryou and the others were standing by the door, summoned by Akane’s earlier shriek when the fighting began.

“What is going on here?” Isis bellowed, freezing everyone in the room.

“He started it!” Kek said as he pointed at Bakura from his perch on the floor.

“I did **not**!” Bakura scoffed in response, crossing his arms in the process.

“ **You** called **me** _ridiculous_ ,” was Kek’s hissed reply as Ryou took him in his arms, shooting Bakura a stern look in the process.

Rishid caught Malik’s gaze who nodded in return. He nodded back before glancing at their sister. Isis was rubbing her temples, clearly not amused by all this. That was unfortunate but highly likely, especially with who they had as guests. After glancing at everyone to make sure that no one was hurt, Rishid excused himself to fetch some tea in the kitchen.

“Malik?” Isis asked once she was sure that her headache was gone. However, it was not her brother who answered.

“It’s true! Kura really started it! I mean sure, Daddy punched Kura first but – Kura was being **mean**. He kept on teasing Daddy!” Akane reasoned, her tiny fists clenched at her side as she stared Isis on. Kek felt himself grew teary-eyed at how his baby girl defended him, and based on how Ryou hugged him from behind, he was feeling proud too.

“Akane, I’m not accusing your father of anything,” Isis said, earning her an eager nod from the girl. “I was just asking what happened here. Look at them,” she said, casually looking over Bakura and Kek before surprising everyone in the room by letting out a giggle. “T-they look…”

“Ridiculous,” Bakura said as he tried, and failed, to pull the bow out of his hair. _How many pins did that kid put in here?_

“I was going to say hilarious, but if that’s what you think then maybe it is,” Isis humored.

It was around that time that Rishid came back, holding a tray with various drinks on it. He handed the adults tea and the children hot chocolate.

“Thank you, Uncle Rishid,” Pan said as Akane muttered, ‘ _Thanks, Bald-head’_ before taking a sip. Pan shot his cousin an annoyed glance who returned it with her tongue flicked out.

Rishid laughed at their antics and patted their heads before joining the others on the sofa.

“I swear I didn’t know that it was your make-up,” Kek told Isis as she asked about his looks. “He just popped out of nowhere and told me to sit down and stay still.”

“Now _that_ is definitely our Pan!” Bakura snickered from Malik’s lap, his tea already finished. “He’s destined for greatness, you know!”

“I highly doubt giving Kek a make-over brings him a step closer to that though,” Malik said, earning him a glare from Bakura.

“Either way,” Ryou cut off before the two started bickering. “Akane managed to rope you in nicely, didn’t she?” He nodded to the pink bow and glitters all over Bakura, causing laughter to erupt in the room.

Bakura was about to retort when Pan suddenly climbed into his lap. Ignoring his Papa Malik’s protest from his added weight, Pan turned to Bakura with wide, curious eyes. “Did you like it?”

“Like what…?”

“Your look.”

Bakura only managed to blink before he heard Akane’s groan. “Why are you so slooooowwww? Sheesh. Pan’s asking if you like your makeover.”

“Akane,” Ryou promptly warned.

“What? It’s true,” she argued as she took another sip of her drink.

“Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?” Malik said, sitting comfortably now that he was not under Bakura and Pan.

Akane rolled her eyes at all of them. “Because he asked me to do it for him, _duh_.”

Being dumbfounded was not something Bakura relished in. With another blink at the girl, he stared at the child sitting on his lap, looking off to the side with a calm expression. He would have bought it if he had not seen that expression one too many times on his partner or on himself during times where they were forced to deal with their emotions. “Pan?”

“Yeah?” he replied, glancing at his father through the corner of his eyes.

“Look at me.”

Pan grumbled before doing so, causing Rishid to laugh to himself. The boy reminded him too much of a younger Malik sometimes.

“Are you looking at me?” Bakura asked once more, holding Pan securely on his lap in order for the boy to not fall off.

“Obviously.”

Bakura smirked. “You little rascal,” he said before tickling him. By now, everyone was watching the two quietly with a smile, relishing on this rare show of affection.

“S-stop, stop –” Pan said in between his giggles, “– _Baba!_ Stop it!”

“Hm, I don’t know…” Bakura paused to turn to Malik, allowing his son to breathe properly. “What do you think, Malik? Should I stop?”

Malik pursed his lips. He glanced at their son, quietly nodding his head at him with a whispered ‘ _yes_ ’. Malik grinned and his son dared to hope.

Until it was promptly shattered by his next words.

“Well, Bakura, I think Pan deserves to be punished for pulling that trick earlier, don’t you think?”

“Why yes, Malik. I think this little one ought to be punished for that.” With that said, Bakura started tickling their son again, ignoring his cries.

“Papa, you traitor!” Pan whined, his laughter mixing with everyone’s shortly after his outburst.

“Big words for you little man. You asked Akane to turn me into this, who’s the traitor now?” He then tickled Pan even more, laughing along with his son. Soon, his fingers became tired and Bakura stopped. He watched his son gasp for breath like a fish out of water. Once Pan noticed him, he flashed him as heart-stopping grin. _Gods, this kid –_

“Don’t think you’re out of trouble. You still have some explaining to do. Why did you ask Akane to do this?”

“Because _baba_ is always looking at them,” Pan chirped. “ _Baba_ always stares at those people who wear a lot of those sparkly things! _Baba_ even laughed a lot when Papa ended up with those things too. Remember? Papa walked in that one time covered in gilmer-”

“Glitter,” Malik interjected.

“Yeah,” Pan said with a nod. “That’s what I said. Glitter. Thanks, Papa!” 

Malik merely shook his head at his son and shrugged when he caught the other’s stare. Oh, he was absolutely going to hear something about being domesticated now, wasn’t he? He didn’t even notice the sigh that came out of him.

“Anyway. Papa walked in, right? You were laughing for a really really long time! It was so fun! Papa chased you around and then he chased me too. It was so much fun! I guess I really wanted to see you laugh like that again so…” He faltered when he saw his fathers watching him intensely. “…D-did I do something wrong? Do you hate it?”

With reasoning like that, how could he possibly hate it?

Yes, Bakura hated glitters.

But damn it, he loved Pan more than he hated those glitters.

With a fond smile, Bakura cupped his son’s chubby cheeks and leaned close to rub their noses together. “You silly child, of course I love it. You know how much I enjoy being called a vampire.”

“Mhm, that’s why I told Akane to put an extra amount of it!”

Bakura felt his brows twitch. _He told – is that why that little hellion was hell-bent on covering every inch of me with glitter?!_

Before he could address Pan about this, his son has already turned to face his cousin, who was now contently chewing on her hair, much to his chagrin. With a shake of his head, Pan grinned. “Thanks, Akane! _Baba_ loves it!”

“Kekekeke,” she grinned, earning a laugh from her daddy, who did the exact same laugh. Ryou merely shook his head at their antics, a pleased grin fixed on his face.

And while everyone was having a great time exchanging stories and taking pictures with the two _models,_ no one noticed Isis slip Rishid a crisp Egyptian pound, the Sphinx at the back of the bill being the only one who knew the exchange happened.

* * *

It was late. Most of the occupants in the house were already asleep except for the two elder siblings.

“I still can’t believe I lost,” Isis said as she cradled her head, elbows on top of the mahogany dining table.

Rishid noted how ironic it was that they now lived on the surface, yet they still found comfort in discussing things in the dark. He eyed the lightswitch by the door as he waited for his sister to continue, as always.

“It just doesn’t make sense. I know Bakura hates those things, why would he…?” Her hair swayed to and fro as she shook it in frustration. “I understand that he enjoys our brother’s company and that he tolerates Pan but –” she cut herself in favor of looking over the sole constant in their lives “– his temper has always been his flaw, brother. I don’t understand.”

Rishid waited and waited until he was sure that Isis was done with her tirade. “Perhaps there is still much you don’t know of him. Let yourself see, not with your eyes, but with your heart, sister.”

“I’m trying.” Isis sighed.

“Not hard enough.”

“Perhaps.”

But despite her frustration regarding her brother’s husband (for no matter how much they deny it, that was what they were now by this point), she couldn’t help but smile at the memory of the child who approached them as soon as he found a way to escape his parent’s watchful gaze.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Pan.”

She heard Rishid hum, and that was enough to know that they were both thinking of the same thing.

“The boy’s crafty, I’ll give him that,” Rishid said with a fond smile.

“Careful, brother. You know how bad it could get if you showed favoritism,” she teased, earning her a scoff.

“I love both of them.” And it was true. Akane and Pan both inherited a part of their fathers that never failed to shine through when the going got tough, just like earlier when Akane defended Kek.

He saw his sister nod at him before speaking up. “I still can’t believe he managed to pull it off though.”

Rishid had to agree. He knew Malik more than anyone in the world. He couldn’t have possibly bought the boy’s acting. _Unless Pan really meant all of it._ Rishid smiled at that thought.

When Pan approached them that morning, while his parents were busy bickering, he didn’t expect him to bring up a bet.

_Pan placed his Winged Dragon of Ra plushie on the table. “I bet I can make my Baba forget his anger.”_

He didn’t make any sense then. Why bet? What could he possibly earn from it? But most of all, why his plushie? Rishid knew of Malik’s connection to the god but Pan’s feelings for it were much stronger. Ever since he saw the toy, he had never allowed it to be out of his sight. So why?

As expected of Isis, she was quick to bring up these points. She even brought up various compromises but Pan was adamant to get what he wanted, much like his fathers.

_He stood his ground and looked Isis in the eye. “It has to be like this or else you’ll never stop looking at Baba like that.”_

_“...like what, exactly?” Isis said as they both waited for the answer with bated breath._

_“Like he’s some monster. Baba isn’t like that.” Pan sniffed but remained determined to make Isis agree to his game. “Baba is good. He protects me and Papa from the bad guys. He… he hates Papa’s food but he eats it anyway because… because… because he loves Papa and…” He was full out crying by that time but Rishid and Isis understood what he was trying to say._

Pan wanted Isis to accept Bakura for who he was.

Pan wanted Isis to stop antagonizing Bakura.

Pan wanted Isis  to finally see who Bakura really was.

Rishid remembered how stricken Isis looked when she reached the same conclusion. He recalled the worry creasing her brows as she wondered if she hasn’t been careful enough about her spite.

_Pan continued to cry even as Isis held him tight. He cried and cried until his voice became hoarse. How his parents didn’t notice his cries would remain a mystery to Rishid – what mattered right now was Pan’s concern._

_Once he was calm enough, Pan insisted Isis play his game._

_“Pan, for the last time, I will not play your game,” Isis said sternly, but her downcast eyes betrayed her guilt. “No one should gamble with a child –”_

_“Gamble with me then,” Rishid interjected from his place beside the two of them. “I’m not a child.” He then turned to Pan, currently staring at him with wide eyes, and smiled gently, “...that is, if Pan accepts it.”_

_When he understood what his uncle was trying to do, Pan let out a whisper. His voice was the softest Rishid had ever heard from him, as if he was afraid that any louder than that would spook Rishid away, along with his one shot of changing Isis’ mind. “You really wouldn’t mind…?”_

_“Brother, this is preposterous!”_

_“Of course, I wouldn’t mind,” he replied, casually ignoring Isis’ outburst in favor of hugging back Pan._

He laughed at how betrayed Isis looked at that time. With her main reason for disagreeing taken care off, she had no other choice but to accept Pan’s preposition.

“I’m glad,” Isis’ mellow voice said, cutting off further reminiscences. “I was worried that he would grow up horribly but –” Isis shook her head and laughed. “Those two were really good at parenting.”

“You never did give them enough credit,” Rishid said with a grin.

“I suppose that is true.” She sighed before returning her brother’s grin. “You know who else I don’t give enough credit?”

“Kek.”

“Kek,” Isis agreed.

It wasn’t long after that that the two of them started exchanging stories about their brothers, their children, and the various antics done during their individual stay with their siblings.

Meanwhile, Pan was sleeping happily, nestled peacefully between his fathers as he dreams of becoming a lawyer.

"Gods Bakura, stop pretending to snore. You’ll wake up Pan,” Malik hissed quietly to Bakura.

“I’m not pretending, I swear.”

“Shush.”

“You shush.”

“Bakura…”

“Malik…”

“Shut up!”  Pan said in his sleep, flailing his hands and accidentally swatting his _Baba_ in the face.

“...pfft –”

A sigh was heard as suppressed giggles echoed in the room.

“You heard the kid, Malik. Shut up.”

“I wasn’t the one he swatted. It was clea–mmhhpp.”

“Good night, Malik… _twe moorwet ntek_ …”

“... _Ana bahebak, ya amar_. Sleep well.”

A grunt was heard before everything became quiet. Just another normal day for their family that ended successfully.

_“I’ll get you out of jail, Baba…”_

_“Sure you will, kid.”_

_“Damn it, Bakura!”_

**Author's Note:**

> The foreign words/phrases are pretty much a given already but just in case:
>
>> _Baba_ \- father (Arabic)  
>  _Iwe moorwet ntek_ \- I love you (Ancient Egyptian??? Or at least, that's what google said haha. Correct me if I'm wrong.)  
>  _Ana bahebak, ya amar_ \- I love you, my moon (Arabic)
> 
> I'm not sure- I just got the feeling that they'll tend to mix their languages up a lot. Anyways, I hope you like it. ^^


End file.
